


221Bored

by thespeckledbrunette



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anger, Cooking, Fluff, Frustration, General, Humor, M/M, One Shot Collection, Science Experiments, Work In Progress, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespeckledbrunette/pseuds/thespeckledbrunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The idea of seeing Sherlock and John at home when they don't have a case sounds quite intriguing, so it's going to be a series of one-shots of them in 221B ( a bit like 'Pond Life' for Doctor Who). Hard to pick a genre: a mixture of relationships, anger, frustration, humor etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Experiments and Tea

**John's POV**

It may only be 6.30 in the morning but I can already hear Sherlock rustling papers around in the kitchen. Last night he was up until the early hours of the morning with a new experiment, so I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't slept at all. He may be a consulting detective and be able to choose his own hours, but I also have to work and can't afford to be up all night because of him being noisy.

"Good morning John. I trust your shoulder was causing you problems during the night again," Sherlock says without looking up from his microscope.

"Not as much as you pacing around in the living room making noises was," he probably didn't hear me as I'm still half asleep, as though I've been sedated. And for all I know Sherlock could've done in my sleep, like that time when he tried to drug my coffee when we were in Dartmoor on the H.O.U.N.D. case.

I step into the kitchen and rummage around in the cupboards for a mug for my morning tea. For some reason there doesn't seem to be a single one. As I turn around I see that they're all sitting next to the sink. I definitely wouldn't have left them there last night, I always wash up before I go to bed.

"Sherlock?"

No reply.

"Sherlock?"

Still no reply.

"Sherlock?!" I have to physically stand next to his ear and shout to get even the smallest part of his attention.

"Mmmm."

"Did you use all the mugs last night?"

A small nod of the head is all I get as he zooms in on whatever micro-organism he's studying now. He doesn't seem to want to explain, so I'm just going to wash one up and hope that it didn't have any toxic or poisonous substance in. As I pick up the mug closest to me (a commemorative Diamond Jubilee mug) I realize its black inside. It can't be that bad otherwise Sherlock would've already warned me about it, I hear Sherlock jump out of his seat and hurriedly walk over to me. He grabs the mug out of my hand.

"You can't use that."

"Well I wasn't just going to use it; I was going to wash it first," I make a grab for the mug but Sherlock holds it further away from me.

"No you can't wash it, it's an experiment."

"Well then I'll use this one." I go to grab the rainbow mug but a forearm blocks my hand from getting it.

"And why can't I use that one?"

"It's also an experiment." He pushes my hand back to my side.

"Well, I must be able to use one of these? You can't have used all of them for an experiment?"

No reply.

"Sherlock! I do have to live here too! You can't just go round using every single thing we own for one of your bloody experiments."

"John it is vital that I complete this experiment. It could be revolutionary," He says in his matter-of-factly voice, completely unaware that I are literally seething.

"Sherlock, your experiments are not the most important things in the world," he's really frustrating me now, he seems to think his experiments control everything that goes on in our

"John, your tea is not the most important thing in the morning." He says it in his patronising voice still holding the mug as far away from me as possible. He can't turn this round on me; he's the one that's wrong.

"Sherlock!" I am shouting now, and too right he should know better than to make me angry in the morning. My hands are flying everywhere as I look for a mug. "What the hell am I meant to drink my tea in then?"

"You look; I'm going back to my experiment." He puts the cup down and makes his way round to go back to his microscope.

"This is all your fault Sherlock."

He's ignoring me now. He can go and continue with his bloody experiments, seeing as those seem to be the only things important to him. Not having friends, but as he once said 'Alone is what protects me.' I could leave this flat right now and not come back and he wouldn't care.

Beep. Beep.

"Can't answer your own bloody phone now then?"

He should know better than to frustrate me when I haven't had a cup of tea so I storm out of the kitchen and back into my room . I get ready for work and walk down the stairs, before slamming the front door shut behind me as I leave the house for work.  


I recieve a text just as I step out the door.  


_A mug of tea is sitting on the kitchen worktop. It's perfectly safe - SH_

"Bloody Sherlock" I mutter under my breath as I walk round the corner to the surgery.


	2. Doctor Who

**Sherlock's POV**

What day is it? Hmmm. Saturday, now that means John will be relaxing and not doing anything this evening. Maybe I can persuade him to play Cluedo with me again.

"John?" I call out to him; he could be in his room.

"Yes, Sherlock." Of course, he's in the kitchen getting his evening's supply of toast with jam.

"I'm bored."

"Well, you were obviously intending on asking me something, you never talk to me unnecessarily."

"Cluedo." I don't need to ask him.

"NO!" he shouts and I can imagine he's slamming the mug he just got down from the cupboard onto the side. "Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock!"

"Well, what are you going to do instead? Even you know you'll get bored just sitting on your own."

"I wasn't ever intending on sitting on my own. Unlike you I am able to occupy myself with things, even if it is just the TV. You should try it sometime."

"Fine."

"What?" He sounds confused, does he not understand that I am agreeing to what he just said.

"I'll join you."

"Well I'm watching Doctor Who."

I put my laptop down. Nothing interesting was happening on 'The Science of Deduction' anyway. How bad can it be?

Well if the beginning is anything to go by I may as well leave now. There's a stupid man in a tweed blazer and a bow tie. He's sitting reading a book when he rips the last page out so it never ends. But obviously it does end; it's just that he'll never know the end.

"Honestly John."

"Well you agreed to watch it. I'm not forcing you." He looks at me with the patronising look, as though I'm going to look like an idiot if I leave now. He's the only person I ever care about what he thinks about me.

"I think I can endure it seeing as the only other thing I might do is to shoot the wall, what'll only frustrate you."

"Well then shut up." It's the title sequence and a blue box is flying around the screen quite obviously CGI. I look over to see John's face very relaxed with his lip pressed together as he hummed along with the theme tune.

Well, this isn't going to be of any benefit to my brain, I may as well learn all about the solar system.

Enter Mind Palace

Search: Doctor Who

Results: Time Travel

Regeneration

Companion

Aliens

Attacks

Conclusion: No Benefits

Leave Mind Palace

"John this is utter rubbish. It's completely absurd and is only going to lower your IQ." I exclaim as I realise that he really cannot afford to get any stupider. He may not be the stupidest but he's not exactly at my level.

"Sherlock yes it's not educational, but it is not going to lower my IQ." He glares at me and it's obvious that as much as he would like me to appreciate it he would just like to be able to watch it and eat his toast with jam.

"But what is the point of it. It's a mad man flying around in a blue box which can apparently travel through time. It just rots your brain." It really is completely ridiculous; they aren't even that good actors.

"Unlike you my brain is not my hard drive. So it doesn't matter what I watch or do because my brain doesn't rot without work. Sometimes we normal people just want to relax from work."

His arms are flailing everywhere; at least he put his plate and mug down first. He really does get worked up about the tiniest if things. It's like the time I knocked the jam off the shelf when I was moving the head out of the fridge. I still don't think he's forgiven me.

"John if you do not turn the TV on to an educational programme soon I will have to leave."

"Fine. You leave. I'm not the one who can't tolerate people."

"I'm leaving."

I storm off to my room and lie on my bed. I place my hands in front of my mouth and lie back. I must've been lying down for a while because at least half an hour had passed. I'm bored. I need to think. I need to think.

"Nicotine Patches," I whisper to myself as I get up and hunt around in my drawers for them.

As I rummage around in my drawer I hear a snuffle from the living room.

_Are you okay? - SH_

His phone is on him, it always is, I saw it in his pocket earlier. One minute, two minutes, three minutes. And he's not replying.

"John?" I shout down the stairs, hoping to hear a reply soon.

Nothing.

I run down the stairs and see John curled up in a ball on the sofa.

"John?" Now I'm confused, he would've called me if something drastic had happened.

"Don't worry Sherlock. It doesn't matter." He sounds quite quiet, maybe he's just sleepy.

"Ok. Are you sure? I could do with something to do. Study human psychology or something?"

"It was just a stupid TV show anyway, and for God's sake, I'm not a bloody experiment." He's getting a bit louder, well that's good, at least he'll back to normal soon.

"Sorry, it's just normal people fascinate me and how they get attached to fictional characters. What is it like in your funny little brains?!"

"Sherlock, they jumped off a bloody building and I don't care what you think so right now just leave me alone."

I leave, I know better than to aggravate a tea-less John. The last time I did that I ended up with a bleeding face and him on top of me strangling me. Probably not the best idea to punch him.

Beep. Beep.

_I'm sorry Sherlock. - JW._


	3. Cooking

**John's POV**

Having turned the key in the lock I pick up the tesco bags that are now sitting at my feet. I push my shoulder into the door so that it edges open enough for me to kick it open fully. I walk in, put the bags down again and pull the keys out of the lock and shut the door firmly to let Sherlock know that I'm home. I know he's home already because I can smell burning. That means he's got the Bunsen burner out and has probably singes his hair again, Mrs Hudson and I have told him numerous times to keep his hair out of his face since the last time he managed to burn half of his hair because of it's ridiculous length. And of course no-one would know because the smoke alarm wouldn't have gone off, because Sherlock shot it.

"Sherlock! You haven't burnt half your hair off again have you?" I call out to him as I soldier up the stairs dragging the crappy plastic tesco bags full of milk up behind me, they're about to break any second now. I wonder how much of a mess the kitchen table is today on a scale of 1 to severed heads.

But I'm pleasantly surprised as there is actually food on the table, burnt food but food nonetheless.

As I stumble into the kitchen and heave the bags onto the counter I see Sherlock consulting his recipe with a fierce growl on his face. I empty the bags, rearrange the fridge so the body parts aren't in the same sections as the food, and put the now empty carrier bags in the cupboard. Sherlock insists that they will useful one day.

"Sherlock?"

He's still scowling at the piece of paper he is now clutching very tightly in his hand while his eyes flicker between the recipe and the burnt food on the table - it's so burnt that it is now unrecognisable. I have no clue what he is attempting to cook.

"Yes John." I can hear the scowl in his voice as he almost spits the words out.

"What exactly are you trying to cook?" I ask in a flat tone, as to not sound insulting.

He inhales very deeply before replying.

"Toad in the Hole."

"Oh. How's it going?"

"John. Take a look at the kitchen table and make an observation." It's obvious from the tone of his voice that he is being sarcastic and patronising. He knows that I know already that it's not going well.

"Well... I could help you?" I ask him, I already know his answer as he looks up to glare at me.

"I am absolutely fine, I can do it on my own. And on the other hand it is an experiment so allowing you to interfere would only mess up the results."

"Of course." I know that he'll only feel inadequate that despite his high IQ level he can't cook a simple meal. It's odd because he's so intelligent but he cant do normal every day household jobs. "I'm just getting some tea, do you want some coffee?"

"No. I must concentrate," he says without his eyes leaving the paper as he pulls the bowl down from the cupboard.

I shuffle through the small gap between Sherlock and the table to get to the cupboard to the left of him, which holds the mugs. All of the mugs on the lower two shelves are on the draining board waiting to be washed up from Sherlock's last experiment. I go up onto my tiptoes and try and reach to the blue and white striped one, I still can't reach. Sherlock's arm crosses my view as he pulls it down and places it on the counter in front of me.

"You should grow taller."

"You should've picked a taller flatmate."

I pick up the mug before walking over to the other side of the kitchen to fill up the kettle again. Having filled up the kettle I open the other cupboard to get the tea bags and sugar, which luckily for me are on the bottom shelf. While I wait for the kettle to boil I lean back on the counter and watch Sherlock prepare the Yorkshire puddings for the Toad in the Hole, even though all I'm seeing is the back of him.

"John, you staring at me is not going to make it happen any quicker." He doesn't even have to turn around to realise I'm staring at him.

"I know. It's just interesting to see a grown man who's never cooked before attempt to make Yorkshire pudding." I chuckle as I realise how unnatural cooking is for him, whereas for almost every other man in the world they know how to cook and then there's Sherlock.

He growls, the kettle hisses to let me know it's boiled and I go back to preparing my tea. I decide it's best to leave Sherlock to it, I don't want to make him angry.

I go back over to the side where Sherlock is to grab a spoon out of the drawer, just as I'm closing the drawer Sherlock puts the whisker into the bowl. He evidently does not put it in far enough because soon enough we are both splattered with batter.

"SHERLOCK!"

"Just a misjudgement. No Need to get so tense about it."

"I'm covered in batter!"

"It's not that bad, it's better than blood."

"Sherlock, I don't care if it's better than being covered in blood, which I know you don't seem to mind being covered in, but this was a new shirt, if you hadn't noticed."

"I had. And you really shouldn't buy from that designer, they aren't the most flattering."

"For Gods sake Sherlock." As I storm from the kitchen I pick up my tea and go to my room to change out of my shirt.

When I come back down Sherlock is still covered in batter, but now instead of the burnt stuff that was sitting on the table there is a tray of sausages along with a pot of gravy.

"Aaah John. The food is nearly ready."  
"Well, aren't you going to say sorry?"

"What for?"

"Covering me with batter."

"Sorry, but it wasn't that bad."

"Thank you. Where are we eating?"

"YOU can eat wherever you want, I on the other hand am not eating. I need to catalogue the results."

"Sherlock you are eating, even if that means I have to physically force it down you're throat. You haven't eaten in over 24 hours and there is more than enough food for two people. You are eating with me."

"I've been drinking coffee."

"You are eating with me."

"Fine. Only for you."

"Thank you Sherlock. Now shouldn't the Yorkshire puddings be coming out about now?"


	4. Lord of the Rings

It was one of my first night shifts at the surgery, so my body's still trying to get used to the weird hours. Its four in the morning but I feel really awake. Reading always helps me sleep - or at least it used to when I went to bed at normal-ish hours.

As I settle down in bed with my battered old copy of Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring from carrying it around with me on various army camps, I take a deep sigh after a long night at the surgery. Despite the state of it, I'd only read it once or twice the whole way through. I read the hobbit numerous times as a boy and am awaiting the film, which is due to be released later this year.  
Just before I start reading I reach over to the my bedside table where I left my laptop earlier. My hand grasps nothing but air.  
[Bloody Sherlock.]  
I contemplate calling out to him because I know he will be awake if he's in the house(he really needs to get more sleep), but one, I don't even know of he's in the house (for all I know he might have climbed out the windows again, I remember the time when he returned in the early hours of the morning stomping up the stairs awaking me and Mrs Hudson.) two, he might be in his mind palace which would only frustrate him and three, if he's bored I will have to find a way to entertain him, and I am not giving him the hidden cigarettes again, especially not this early in the morning.

_When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventh-first birthday with a party of special significance, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton._

I hear a loud exasperated sigh and expect a shout.  
"Bored. Bored. Bored." Each shout is interspersed with a gunshot.  
"SHERLOCK."  
"Bored. Bored. Bored." More gunshots.  
I wonder what pattern he's made this time. A frowning face. Or an angry face.  
I pick up my phone and send him a text:

Sherlock. Seeing as you're up, not that I expected you to be asleep anyway, would you like to tell me where my laptop is? - JW

I can't be bothered to get put of bed, and texting is usually the easiest form of communication with Sherlock, even if we are in the same house.

I borrowed it for some work I was doing. The most recent poems for your girlfriends were truly wonderful - SH

"Oh for God's sake."

Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit Sherlock. You have your own bloody laptop you know. And you really should be sleeping - JW

I settle down to start reading my book once again, I don't even begin to read a word when I hear my phone buzz again.

I needed yours. And even I don't need to deduce that you're not asleep either. - SH

He really is insufferable sometimes. He doesn't even notice I'm gone half the time. I went to New Zealand and he didn't notice. I think he must just talk to himself thinking I'm there, he doesn't even bother to ask.

I've been at the surgery since 10pm. I guess you've been talking to yourself then? - JW

I could just try to get to sleep now, but I had a cup of tea not too long ago and forgot to ask for decaf. Now I'm never going to get to sleep.

I was not talking to myself I was merely reciting data. And surely you should be tired and falling asleep by now? - SH

I'm not exactly tired. I'm currently trying to read Lord of the Rings if you'd like to stop texting me. - JW

That should do it.

Reading won't help, if anything it will only heighten how fast your brain works, not that it's that working that fast anyway. You may as well stay awake. - SH

Or maybe not

I'm going to read. And just curious but have you ever read Lord of the Rings? - JW

No. And I don't intend to. - SH

The films are good. We'll have to watch them sometime. - JW

You used the wrong pronoun there. You meant I. - SH

Well then have fun watching them if you won't watch them with me. - JW

You know what I meant. And once again no is I'll not watch them nor will I read the book. I have better things to do with my time than read about fantasy creatures an worlds - SH

Let me join you and read you some. You may enjoy it. - JW

No, I'm joining you in there so you don't wake up too much - SH

I place my phone onto my bedside table and curl up on my side as I hear Sherlock's bare feet stepping up the stairs outside my room. As he pushes the door opens a little bit of light is let in behind Sherlock, making him look like a silhouette and extending his shadow so it is almost at the length of the room.  
He comes and gently sits down on the opposite side of the bed. I inhale deeply before starting to read again. I drift of in my head as I realise i am not along anymore. There's someone who I know will always be there for me.  
Sherlock.


End file.
